


A Family Christmas

by Linguini



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Douglas's first in a long time with a family, Emily's first with two dads, Fluff, M/M, Martin's first Christmas with the Richardsons, Summer Christmas Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/pseuds/Linguini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas, Martin, Emily, and a Christmas spent at home, they way the best ones are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractionallyfoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/gifts).



> Written for the Summer Christmas Secret Santa

“Dad. Are you awake? Daaaad.” The voice that pierced the serenity of his sleep was accompanied by small, soft hands prying open one eyelid, with something less than the gentlest of touches. “Dad?”

“Mnph,” he grunted and rolled over, ‘coincidentally’ trapping the interloper under his bulk.

“Dad!” Emily squawked. “Martin! Help! Dad’s squishing me.”

“Sorry, I’ve learned my lesson about waking up sleeping Douglases before they’re ready.” His tone said he was anything but apologetic. “You’ll have to muddle through without me.”

Emily huffed and prodded at Douglas’s neck. “Dad, please?” When that got her nowhere, she resorted to bribery. “There’s coffee. And Martin’s made crepes. With strawwwberrriesssss.”

Douglas pondered a moment to let the tension build, then just shuffled over to press her more firmly into the mattress and dropped a kiss on her cheek before shoving his face back into the pillows. “What’re you so ‘cited ‘bout?” he mumbled, lifting his arm so she could escape.

“It’s Christmas!” she shouted and bounced a bit on her knees to get him to move. “Santa’s been and we have presents and there’s snow and get up get up get up! Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

He huffed, but managed to press himself to a standing position, though he wobbled a bit in place as the last vestiges of sleep slid off him. With a press of his hands towards the ceiling, he stretched until he heard his back and hips pop and scrubbed at the back of his head.

“Mornin’ Martin,” he mumbled. Martin just grinned the grin of the man who enjoyed waking at bird song and held out a box. “Your first present.”

“Oh, oh! Open it Daddy!” Emily tugged at his sleep trousers until Douglas sat on the bed. “What is it?”

Douglas slid the tape off carefully and opened the box inside to find a thick, warm jumper.

“To make up for the one I shrunk in the wash,” Martin told him with a chagrined smile. “This one is nicer anyway.”

He nodded and slipped it on, feeling warmer already. “Thank you, it’s perfect,” he said with a smile. With one last stretch, he pushed himself off the bed, scooping up Emily and tossing her over his shoulder. He gave Martin a kiss as he passed on his way to the kitchen. “I believe I was promised coffee?” he asked with a yawn.

Emily nodded, squirming down and tugging at his hand, leading him to the sitting room. “It’s in here. We put everything on the coffee table, even though we know you like sitting at the real table because—” and here she dropped her voice to mimic Douglas’s baritone, “Sitting rooms are for sitting, Emily, and dining rooms for dining.”

Douglas rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair. “Be cheeky, go on. I know several deserving children who would love to have what’s in those boxes and bags.” But he couldn’t begrudge the grin that spread across her face. His smile dropped the tiniest bit when he saw Martin hovering in the doorway, as though unsure of his welcome. “Martin,” he said, nudging Emily to get her to play along, “Anyone not on the sofa when presents start doesn’t get anything. Right, Ems?”

She adopted her most serious face, “Definitely.” She hopped off to dig out the Santa hat, then stood in front of Martin, tugging at his sleep shirt until he bent down to her. With a grin, she plunked the hat on his head. “You’re Santa!” she gleefully told him before racing back to the sofa. “You have to distribute presents.”

For his part, Martin looked a bit off-balance, but he recovered with aplomb. “Fine, then,” he said, and wandered to rustle through the presents beneath the tree. He found one for himself and sat on the piano bench. “Ah. The first present goes to me, then. You two will have to wait.” When he didn’t get the protest he was expecting, he picked his head up and received twin looks of excited anticipation in return.

“Go on, then,” Douglas told him, sitting back and sipping his coffee. “What’s in the box?” Emily looked just as eager as her father to find out. Martin swallowed past the touched fondness in his throat and opened the box, pulling out the grey hoodie inside. 

“It says Icarus Removals,” Emily told him proudly. “And it has a hood so you can stay warm and dry and people will still know who you are and what you’re called.”

Martin smiled at her, amused by the Richardson propensity for giving perfect gifts. “Thank you, Emily. It’s great!” He tugged off his jumper and wriggled into the hoodie before picking out his gifts for each of them. “Two for one special.”

Emily tore into the paper with aplomb, grinning with delight when she opened the writing journal and set of pens inside. “Oh, Martin,” she said as she opened it and touched the paper gently. “It’s perfect, thank you.” Her eyes lit on the inscription he’d written in the front cover, and her smile stretched impossibly wider. Without another word, she flung herself off the sofa and launched herself at him in a giant hug, which he returned gladly. 

For his part, Douglas looked on fondly as he slit open the tape with a fingernail and opened the paper carefully. He tilted his head curiously when he pulled out a logbook. “A hint, Martin? Isn’t Christmas meant to be about forgiveness?”

Martin gave him a small, shy smile back. “Open it,” he said and watched as Douglas did, reading the entries in. It took a moment for understanding to dawn, but the soft look that settled on his features was worth it. “They’re our flights,” Martin said. “I went back and took out all the solos and just left the ones we did together.”

Not only that, Douglas noticed, but in the “Remarks” section, Martin had put various observations about the flight. At the start, they were dry comments about the airfield or the word game (“Left tyre went” or “Warthog on runway”), but as he flipped through the pages, he saw they grew less and less about flying and more and about about the two of them. Curious, he skipped to the flight to Honolulu where he’d proposed and smiled when, instead of any comments, Martin had simply sketched out two rings linked together. Douglas’s eyes were warm and tender as he looked up and gave Martin another, more private smile. “Thank you,” was all he said, his unusual silence more from overwhelming feeling than disappointment with the gift.

Martin flushed a bit, then dug out another present for Emily and set it on her lap. “From your father.” Emily made a face and shook it gently, tongue sticking out in concentration as she tried to guess what it was.

“Careful, Ems,” Douglas warned. He watched as she ripped into the paper again and uncovered the science kit, nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement. “Oh, oh, oh! It’s perfect!” She put it aside and tackled Douglas in a hug. “Thank you. And I can use Martin’s book for notes!” 

Douglas laughed and hugged her back. “Well, every scientist needs a lab. Your mother and I arranged for you to have two—one here and one at hers, so you don’t have to move them back and forth, just your notes.” 

Emily grinned and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before settling back in her seat, still practically vibrating with joy. “Go on, then, Martin. Open yours from Dad.”

“Richardsons,” Martin grumbled as he obliged, pulling two more gifts from under the tree and setting Douglas’s in front of him before re-settling on the piano bench. “Bossy and overbearing, the lot of you.” But his complaints were halfhearted at best, and he turned his attention back to the package in his lap, opening it just as carefully as he had the last. When he lifted the lid off the box, he hesitated a moment before pulling out the leather bomber jacket. ”Douglas?” he asked, uncertainly.

Douglas shrugged, though a smile threatened the corners of his mouth. ”It’s not like Carolyn’s uniforms are as warm as they are impressive. And every _real_ pilot needs a pilot jacket.” He nodded to the patch on the front. ”That’s what was the station patch for RAF Fitton during The War. I thought it fitting.”

Martin’s hand’s couldn’t stop petting the buttery soft leather. ”It’s amazing, thank you Douglas.” He tilted his head. ”You’d have thought they’d have chosen something more fearsome than a pheasant for their mascot, though.” He grinned and set it aside reverently, then resumed the pattern of handing out gifts and watching them be opened until there was only one left—Emily’s to Douglas.

“What have we here, Emily, hmmm?” Douglas asked as he uncovered a DVD case labeled in Emily’s neatest hand and decorated with hearts and music notes and flowers. ”Emily’s Recitals?” He turned to her, face oddly still. ”All of them, Ems?”

She nodded and ducked her head as the mood in the room went suddenly quiet. ”Mmmhmm. Mum helped me find them all, and I thought….I thought you would want to see them, since you couldn’t come.” She took a deep breath, but didn’t take her eyes off where she was picking at the skin on the side of her thumb. 

Douglas reached over and pulled her into his lap, wrapping her up tightly and pressing a kiss to her hair. ”I do,” he said, clearing his throat carefully. ”And I’m sorry I missed them.” He gave her a squeeze and sat there for a long moment. Finally, forcing his voice a little lighter, he said, ”I hope you made copies, because I’m probably going to wear this one out.” It worked and the mood broke a little. He gave her another hug. ”Alright, the two of you clean up and I’ll start on lunch.” He dropped a kiss on Emily’s head and gave Martin a smile and retreated to the kitchen.

Lunch was a cheerful affair, and by the time they’d finished and cleaned up, none of them were really willing to move. Emily tossed the towel she’d been using to dry the dishes on the table and turned to her father. “Snoopy?” she asked with a grin. 

“Snoopy,” he nodded and watched her run off with a happy shout.

Martin started the kettle and pulled down mugs for tea. “Snoopy?” he asked. “As in the cartoon dog?”

“Just so,” Douglas said, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist. “You’re in for a treat. It’s time for the traditional Christmas Afternoon Film Festival, and as this is your first one, you have first choice. After Snoopy, of course, who always kicks off the festivities.” Douglas kissed the back of his neck and released him as the kettle started to boil. 

“Dad!” Emily called from the sitting room. “Come help! It’s heavy!”

“Snoopy’s heavy?” Martin asked.

Douglas said nothing, just disappeared with a knowing wink. Everything was explained when Martin appeared with a tray of teas to find the sofa pushed back against the wall and every cushion, pillow, and blanket in the house piled on the floor in front of it.

“It’s the nest,” Emily explained. “We had to use all the cushions but there’s space for you, we made sure. Come on!”

Martin looked unsure, but managed to settle himself comfortably next to Douglas. For her part, Emily flopped next to her father and dropped her head against his arm, and the festival began. They spent the afternoon that way, taking breaks for popcorn and hot chocolate at dinner time, and by late evening, they’d made it through the entirety of the Richardson Christmas collection and were working on the Carry On films. Emily had long since abandoned her post sitting up and had stretched out on the cushions with her head in Douglas’s lap, and was already blinking heavily before they’d made it twenty minutes into the last one. Douglas looked down at her with a soft smile and resumed carding his fingers through her hair until her breath evened out and she was asleep.

She wasn’t the only one, he was amused to note, as Martin’s head dropped to his shoulder not long after. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Martin’s head and let the film finish before nudging him up. ”Martin,” he said gently. ”Love, let me up?”

His only response was something mumbled about flight checks, but Martin straightened, stretching where he sat. Douglas managed to worm his way out from under Emily without waking her, though picking her up to carry her to her room was more difficult that he remembered it being when she was younger. _When **you** were younger_ , his traitorous mind reminded him, but he quickly pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Once in her room, he divested Emily of her socks and jeans and tucked her in, carefully brushing errant strands of hair from her forehead and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. ”Happy Christmas, Ems,” he said and watched her sleep for a moment before heading back to the sitting room.

Martin was already clearing up the cushions and blankets, settling everything back in place. Douglas bent to help him, feeling the warm glow of contentment, rare in his life, suffuse his bones. ”Good Christmas?” he asked, finally.

"The best," Martin said, then bit his lip. Douglas knew this to be the sign of emotional confession, so he was careful not to do or say anything to make Martin shy away. "The best I’ve had in…since I can remember, honestly," he finally said.

"Good," Douglas said. "Mission accomplished then." He turned and gave Martin a private, seldom-seen smile before stepping forward to drop a quick kiss on his lips. "Happy Christmas, Martin."

Martin smiled back. ”Happy Christmas, Douglas. Now take me to bed.”

And Douglas, ever obedient, did.


End file.
